May 17, 2017

they sow


tryst, fight their woes with burgundy
bleach their teeth in lies
romanticize their plight
and fantasize in yellow


hyacinths, basking under an indifferent sun
beached on a grassy knoll
the sun will take its toll
while the pull of the promise precedes


this, an isolated chastised moment
a finger wagging sharp
between two eyebrows barred
and scarred, from raising at another


bliss, it's neither here no there
but lies in shoulderblades
a soft skin for a stage
a play, put on by fingers


indeterminate, so it's not needed
so the deep sky doesn't fall
down so hard at night and call
pshaw, you were soiled ten degrees



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